At Midnight: A Moon Knight Novel
by theencinomane
Summary: Marc Spector was just your average run of the muck mercenary, until a job gone sour cost him his life. Fueled by vengeance and powered by the God Khonshu, Marc is forced to live his life in constant pain and agony as his immortality takes him down a long road through heroism and insanity.


At Midnight

Chapter 1:

Just like a Merc

"Murder, rape, robbed of everything you hold dear. These things, people fear most... Are ya' hearing me boy? Are ya listenin'? " the raspy voice vibrated into Marc's frequency, his brain racing through the events leading him there; side by side with a no-good ass-wipe like Bushman. _My partner in crime_ , he thought. Bushman's mouth stretching from ear to ear sparkled a glimpse of his metallic fangs. _Fuck was I thinking._

"Ya' see it's fear. Fear that'll get the people riled up. Fear will make them do whatever you want. That's why I had this skull tattooed over my face."

"Oh? Not because you thought you'd be the prettiest girl at the ball?" Marc replied. The ill amusement on Bushman's face made Marc's smirk. Bushman gripped Marc's shoulder, stopping him in is tracks. _It's too hot out here for this._ Marc thought.

"See that's your problem there Spector, you're soft. You're quick to make joke because you too, are afraid." Bushman said. His thick Haitian accent, jabbed at Marc with bursts of air.

"Let's just get the job done and be out of here." Marc said, snuffing Bushman's grip off of him.

Palm trees made good cover for the small militia group as they crept through the moonlit village outside Canaan. Six men and two women, few of Earth's shittiest Merc's in one pot, stewing for the bigger heap.

"This is it here." Bushman said, pointing ahead to a clay shack. A small amount of light flared through the cracks of the wooden door as a faint voice is heard from within.

"We must keep our heads low my dear. We must keep it moving before anyone…" BAM!

Bushman kicked in the door, sending it flying off its hinges as a silver haired geologist, shielded a young blonde-haired woman from the blast.

"Well, well now. Are we interrupting." Said Bushman. He rubbed his tongue across his fangs and tugged on his vest's collar, head held high as he began pacing the room. The last of the mercs gathering into the small hut and aimed their AK's.

* * *

"Now listen here doctor. I'm not here to take anything from you personally, nor harm the head on your pretty little mistress there." Said Bushman, then with his head sitting low, and eyebrows arched at attention, he gave the old man a mad bull glare, sucking on his teeth.

"What. What do you want?" replied the geologist, fixating his glasses back on his face.

"Oh, I think you know good and damn well what I want doc." Bushman said. Stretching his finger in the doctor's direction, he inches closer and closer, then press it against the fragile chest of the doctor. Face to face, Bushman stared into the man's eyes, with dead ones. "We're here for the same reason you are Doc."

He backs away, moving back toward the entrance.

"Now don't worry Doc, we're here to help." Bushman said, gesturing to the old man's newly appointed help, the old man helping nothing but to give a stank face.

"But I didn't hire any help, nor do I want it!" The old man blurted. Bushman dropped his head and rolled his eyes.

"Alright." Said Bushman. "Alright. I get it. You need convincing first. Need to know we're the right men for the job." He said. His henchmen dispersed across the hut, throwing, smashing, ripping, destroying anything and whatever is intact. Chaos rained down on Bushman and the couple as he continued to stare them down

"Stop it! Stop it now dammit!" the old man yelled. The mercs moved in, corning the doctor, Marc grabbing the girl from behind.

"No!" yelled the man, reaching out to grab her. "Missy!"

One of the mercenaries clocked the old man in the gut, relieving him of his rebellion.

"Avi!" the woman yelled, jerking in Marc's grasp.

"Okay old man, let's roll." Bushman said, gesturing for the doctor to lead the way. The old man took a deep breath and glanced over at the woman before letting out a sigh, and stepping out the doorway.

* * *

It had been hours the three jeeps drove through the desert. Hours before the old man pointed at an oasis, smack dab in the middle of nowhere.

"There!" He said," Just up ahead"

They all pulled up to the oasis before unloading their gear.

"It's on foot from here." The doctor went on.

"Jesus H Christ how much longer Doc? Starting to get restless here." Cried Marc. Repositioning his gear onto his shoulder.

"Calm yourself Spector," Said Bushman, "I'm sure the doctor here is just as anxious as you are," Bushman shoots a smirk over at the old man, "Right Doc? I mean… not wanting anything to happening to your precious girl and all."

Marc gives off a sarcastic snicker. _Sick bastard_. A few miles on foot past before,

"Here!" said the old man, "It should be…somewhere around… here."

He stopped, and pulled out a giant a book from his bag. The moonlight danced off it's golden cover as he sat it down in the sand and began reciting,

" _Don kali ma sha, ektu furah sha tali muante…"_

The ground slightly trembled to erect the crews' attention.

"Da hell is going on?" Marc asked. Everyone tried maintaining their balance as Bushman turned to look at Mar and grinned.

"Just watch Spector. Watch and witness greatness."

The ground continued to rumble, harder and harder before everyone fixated on the structure growing from beneath it. Larger and larger it grew into a five-story structure; built of ivory and gold, unearthed for centuries. Complete with pillars carved in the shape of a ghost faced god holding a crescent staff, everyone stood, tranced by its wonder.

"Magnificent." Said the doctor, "Years of research and scavenging." He muttered.

"Go on Doc," Bushman said, rubbing his hands together. "be my guest." He gestured once more for the old man's lead before he shuffled in, scanning the entrance for traps and curses.

"Not all night now" Bushman said, pushing him through the stoned doorway. He stumbled in before catching his balance, and continuing.

* * *

 _WHOOSH_

Sounds of kerosene soaked rags setting ablaze flooded the corridor as the dim lights revealed darkness, leading into more darkness.

"Stay sharp men," one of the soldiers said. They walked on, aiming their sights to lead the way inching throughout seemingly endless hallway. Bushman walking tall and without hesitation shoved at the geologist to pick up the pace.

"I said not all night." Bushman said before his thought was cut short.

"Wait… D'you hear that?" said the doctor. He stretched his torch further in front of him, listening out.

"Sounds like static." Said someone. Everyone else tuned in to guess the sound.

"Sounds like…water?" Marc said. Picking up the pace, they raced toward the sound before a glimmer of moonlight illuminating the path before them, guided them into a tomb.

"Holy, shit." Marc uttered.

Caught in the alluring luminescence of the moon shining through the roof, glimmers of light danced down the giant waterfall that poured from the wall into a pool below. The walls were decorated with statues of the same god from outside; all ivory and gold, in pristine shape, standing tall, leading up to a stone sarcophagus that sat in the center of it all.

"The Tomb of Konshu" said the old man, his words slightly dripping from his lips. He took a small step before being shoved out of the way. _Gorillas and their treasures_ , thought the old men.

"Alright!" shouted one of the soldiers. "That's what I'm talking about!" said another.

Bushman, savoring the moment, made his way toward the sarcophagus, and slid off the lid. A slight glow from within scrunched Bushman's face as he tried to stare upon the wonder.

"Yes…This, this is it." He uttered. Marc crept in further, curious cat he was, only to view the crescent staff that occupied every statue within the tomb. _This? This is what all the trouble was for?_ Thought Marc. His mind raced around the events as he watched the Bushman's hand reaching into the coffin.

He lifted the staff out, the Crescent tip bounced the moonlight around the room as he held it up into the air. "I…I can feel it." said Bushman. Everyone just stared as the man before them glowed in the moonlight, his muscles, growing inches by the second.

"I can feel it," Bushman said. He stared into his hands as waves of energy, flowed within him. "I can feel it!"

Bushman looked up at the geologist, who continued to watch as the trespassers desecrated the sacred discovery. "Yes," Bushman said, lunging at the old man, tackling him to the ground.

"Hey wait! What are you doing?" Shouted the old man, gaining the room's attention. Bushman snarled at the doctor, showing his teeth before sinking them into the side of his artery.

"What the hell are you doing!" Yelled Marc, running over to break the old man free of Bushman's grip, only to yank a chunk of the old man's throat into the throat of the Bushman's.

"No!" yelled the woman. She fought her way out of the grip of a henchman, and into the dying arms of the old man.

"Granddad!" she cried out.

* * *

"What the hell you think you're doing man!" Marc shouted. Bushman slowly rised over the corpse.

"Just what the fuck…" Marc continued before being cut off by the sight Bushman's glare. His black, soulless eyes slightly stared from the corners, stuttering Marc as he watched droplets of blood fall from his grin. Merc began laughing amongst themselves as others were stared, stunned.

"I can't…I can't be a part of this." Marc said, trying to grasp his head around the events just witnessed.

"Oh, you can be a part, or you can die here, right along with them." Bushman said. The woman's cries bouncing throughout the room as Bushman walked toward her.

"Oh, I'm sorry little lady. Did I here you say granddad?" Bushman said, bending down at the tear soaked woman. "That makes more sense now doesn't it." He continued.

"Stop." Said Marc.

"Would you like to join him?" Bushman continued.

"I said stop!"

The woman looked up into Bushman's eyes as hers continued to swell with tears. Bushman grinning before leaning in closer.

"I said, you're done you fucking asshole." Said Marc. He gripped Bushman's shoulder and yanked him backward.

"We're not murderers. That's not what I signed up for." Marc continued. Bushman rolled back and onto his feet before dusting himself off.

"Damn. You disappoint me Spector. I really expected more of you." Said Bushman.

"Yea, well, you should've read the full file. Now you came and got what you were looking for, so I'd say it's time for us to leave."

Marc planted his feet into the sand as the rest of the gang gather behind Bushman. Turning to the woman, "Get out of here. Run!" Marc said, before feeling a jab on his cheek. The woman watches Marc go down before dashing to the exit. Two of the mercs take after her. Marc fought off his assailant before pulling the pin to a grenade, attached at his hip.

"Looks like it's just us." Marc said, whipping the grenade across the room. Landing at the doorway and at the feet of the fleeting mercs, it goes off.

BOOM!

* * *

POW!

Shots fired amid the commotion. The structure begins rumbling and shaking, as sand seep through the cracks and holes of the tomb, filling it up. Marc turned back toward Bushman, who stood wielding a pistol in hand, aimed through the hole in Marc's chest.

"I told you Marc. You were getting soft." Said Bushman. The mercs tried dodging fallen debris as Marc grabbed for stability.

"It was simple Marc. All you had to do was follow orders." Bushman continued. Marc crawled on the ground as Bushman let out another shot into his back.

BAM!

Marc stopped to turn over, sitting his back against the sarcophagus.

"Yea… well, I guess … I guess I wasn't the right, asshole, for the job." Marc muttered. The foundation crumbling, the roof began to cave as Bushman stood over Marc's body. Without hesitation at the destruction, Bushman inspected the staff, up and down.

"Yea. I guess you're right." Bushman said. He drove the tip of the staff into the heart of Marc as Marc let out a groan. The sharp edge pierced his armor, clothing, skin, then heart.

"Ahhh!" he cried out.

 _I guess this is how it ends. Decades of killing and war, the loneliness and paranoia of the shadows and this is it. At the hands of a no-good piece of shit like Bushman. I guess it's just like a merc… to die right here like this._

Bushman looked up at the moonlit sky. Pieces of debris smacked his face as he stood over the vessel that was, Marc Spector, grinning, as the rubble and sand consumed them.


End file.
